What I’d Be Without Me The Paper Chase

What is born will die
What has been gathered will be dispersed
What has been accumulated will be exhausted
What has been built up will collapse
And what has been high will be brought low

Dear Diary
As you can see, the pen's drinking
It's an ornery little thing
And it's dreadful, dreadful, dreadful
Dear Diary
My sweet body will turn on me
Say pretty please 'cause God is listening
And we all fall in the big empty

Do you wanna know what girls want?
Do you wanna know what girls really need?
They want the greasy hands all over their mouths
Apparently the [turn]coats who grant the nosebleeds, and
Do you wanna know what boys want?
They want the grass stains on their sisters' Barbies, and
They want their hands crawling up there themself
But you're knock-kneed, knock-kneed, knock-kneed

Ah! Oh God!